When it Rains in Omega
by Salmon Center
Summary: Emelia Shepard, A.K.A. Em, Millie, Mils. Sixteen years old. Omega orphan. Single. Occupation: Courier. Likes: Parkour Dislikes: Archangel.
1. Chapter 1

Hi.

**So you know what you're getting into:**

So this is another AU, but way shorter in length (this is certain), and _no Reapers_. The Shepard here isn't one you might be familiar with but she's tons of fun and I am in love with her. Also, you may count this fic as a pre-romance fic. The romance is between FemShep and Garrus. The _events of this fic happens before the events of ME1_, where Garrus is 25 years old (so, a nine year age gap, give or take a few months). Again, no romance happens- for now, anyway.

**Warnings:** Swearing, lots of swearing. Mentions of Garrus/others. Updates will be 5-7 days (depending on feedback, tee hee).

**Summary**: Emelia Shepard, A.K.A. Em, Millie, Mils. Sixteen years old. Omega orphan. Single. Occupation: Courier. Likes: Parkour Dislikes: Archangel.

_Many thanks to Elantil, who has been very supportive and encouraging in all my life and writing endevours. She is the beta of all my fics but any typos are my doing._

**When it Rains in Omega**

**Part 1**

Being on the wrong end of the scope of a deadly sniper was never a nice experience. Emelia Shepard knew that as she ducked under cover and instead of her head, Archangel's bullet hit the crate.

He was proving to be a tenacious little fucker, chasing her around Omega for a little more over ten minutes. By now she was sure he had overextended himself and had separated himself from the rest of his squad.

Shepard smiled. The turian may have amazing aim but he was hot-headed.

Leaning behind the crate Archangel just hit, she took a deep breath before dodge-rolling to the next cover, sprinting towards the alleyway and into a busy market. Putting up her hood, she walked as one with the masses. Behind her, she heard hurried and heavy footsteps—she never looked back as he scanned the crowd for her.

This was the fifth time Archangel had intercepted her. Frankly, it was getting old. It made her headaches worse.

"This is bullying the weak I tell you," She complained. In front of her, Morinth raised an eyebrow but her eyes were more or less rather bored when Shepard's silver-blue ones tried to meet hers. "What do I have against a whole crew, hm?"

The asari rolled the wine in her glass. "You didn't complain so much when Blue Suns was after your tail a few months ago."

"Oh, they're pathetic. Archangel? Scary. Twelve people that think they're on the side of justice? Scarier. Besides—I'm just a courier. They should be bothering Eclipse or Blood Pack."

Morinth took a sip from her Thessian Plum Wine, a look of incredulity on her face. Shepard huffed, crossing her arms defensively. Theirs was a strange friendship—one which probably would have never occurred if Shepard wasn't a courier, using one of the many shortcuts to breeze through Omega's streets. In an opportune moment, she had been witness to one of the Ardat-Yakshi's murders. It wasn't anything new in a hell like Omega, but their eyes had locked and instead of trying to kill each other (or in Shepard's case, instead of running very fast in one direction and not looking back) Morinth had kept her as a "friend."

"I would have agreed with you if I didn't know you were an information courier and that if any one gang got ahold of you, they would have a much easier time existing."

"Why do I feel like you're the one who's been giving out my location?"

The asari tittered. She actually freaking tittered. "Oh, Millie, you're just the cutest thing— if you weren't just sixteen years old—I would have sexed you and eaten you alive."

Shepard held back a shudder. She pulled up her hood to cover her pixie cut brown hair and leave most of her in shadow. "Fuck, Morinth, I know age never stopped you before."

"You're right. But I would be terribly lonely, there are—stronger, more sensual but less entertaining people around Omega. You shouldn't be worried at all." She tipped the last of the wine before licking her lips. "As for your location—I haven't spoken to anyone about you."

"Please either kill them or throw them off if they ask you, Morinth. Dealing with Archangel is enough of a headache."

"Of course, child."

"And—" Shepard shifted her eyes around the apartment.

"And?"

"Have you heard from Feron?"

The asari went silent. She turned to look at the window with its curtains drawn. "I can't say I have, child. I'm sorry."

"It happens." Shepard shrugged. Standing up before Morinth could console her with her usual platitudes, she secured her body bag and gave the asari a mock salute before walking out of the posh apartment. Archangel had been ruining her life for long enough, it was time to rest up and start a better day tomorrow.

* * *

Last voicemail from the boss:

"_Listen, kid. I'm going to be gone for a long while. I know you'll be fine—you know Omega almost as well as Aria does. But—fuck, I don't have the time to explain. Look, just stay safe, all right? Finish the last few runs and stay low."_

"_In case you get into trouble—well, you know the locals. I can call a few favors here and there from people I know. So don't give them too much trouble."_

"_I'll see you, kid. Don't miss me too much."_

* * *

As an information courier, life consisted of good days and better days.

Good days meant barely escaping the clutches of her enemies. Basically, that meant any merc gang or gang member who saw her as easy pickings because she was a frail human girl—and her size was small even for most sixteen year olds. They would try to either capture and torture her or kill her. Good days meant that her ability to get away saved her. It was a good day because krogans could barely vault their way up walls. And vorchas were too dumb to swing from one railing to another. It meant that she had every right to be confident about her earned abilities.

Better days were when she was completely uninterrupted. Aria may be queen but Omega was Shepard's playground. There wasn't a wall she couldn't climb, a building she couldn't leap from, ledges she couldn't swing to. And it was imperative that she get from point A to point B—her clients trusted her to get the job done.

Then Archangel showed up and suddenly there was a new category to her days: Fuck, God must hate me days. To make matters worse, she'd been getting these terrible headaches and no amount of prescribed meds were working. Frankly, she'd given up and planned to live with them.

Why was she getting all this hate all of a sudden? She's never actually interfered with his purge of Omega. All she'd ever done was twirl around his little witch hunt. Then again, maybe he knew she wasn't just any information courier. Maybe he knew she was one of Feron's runners and that she was disseminating information to other Shadow Broker agents. Sometimes, her job took her to even the merc bosses themselves (rare as that was—she wouldn't poke one with a ten meter pole if she could help it).

There were things that weren't safe on the extranet until absolutely necessary. Feron knew that and that's why he took her in after witnessing her talents himself. Basically, she's made a haven for herself in a hell like Omega thanks to Feron. A hell lot of kids her age would never be able to dream up the life she was living.

But now, Feron was missing. She hadn't heard from him in five months, the longest he'd been silent. Now, Shepard was getting worried. To make things worse, Archangel interfered at every opportunity. She didn't have any more runs to make and with Feron's instructions to keep her head down—she wasn't supposed to look for work but what the hell was she supposed to do about credits?

In the market district on the way home, a message blipped into her omni-tool. That had her cursing all the way to Afterlife. She was looking forward to just collapsing on her bed and not bothering to wake up for a few days.

She never liked the club. Slipping past the bouncers, she put the hood of her jacket up and stuffed her hands into her pockets, walking past drunken men and women of all races, ignoring the swiveling gyrating bodies of asari and the thumping of the bass. She made her way up the stairs and into the second floor, a more tame section of the club with steadier red lights and a crowd more genteel than the bumpers and grinders on the first floor. Well, it was as classy as the boot of a high class escort compared to the heel of a red light district hooker, anyway.

She made her way to Aria's floor, hands deep in her hoodie's pockets before she climbed the last set of staircases. Aria, as usual, took up more space than she could possibly need with her arms on the backrest her couch. Her impassive expression brought about another wave of unwanted nausea.

"What?" Shepard lifted her chin a little—fighting the dizziness.

"Your apartment is on fire."

"Oh, haha." Shepard rolled her eyes. "You just called me because I hate coming here."

"There's that. But," She called one of her lackeys over. He scrambled, bringing over one of the old screens and patching it to one of the surveillance cameras. True enough, the screen showed Shepard's apartment complex in flames. People gathered around the barricade as Aria's lackeys tried to put out the fire. Ambulances could be heard in the distance and a few people she recognized ran out of the entrance covered in soot. "For once, kid, I've done you a small favor."

"What would have been a real favor is just saying that through the comm so I could salvage some of my shit!" She cussed, grabbing the edges of the screen and shaking it. "Fuck! My life's savings!"

"Pity."

"Please, save me the false sympathy."

"You're right. It's not my style." Aria leaned back against her couch. "If you sold your services to me, Shepard, you might make more than enough for something in the upper districts by the end of the month."

"I saved a bag of potato chips in there! A-grade and worth a week of runs!" Shepard shook the screen again. Then, she shook the batarian holding the screen, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Tell me the black market restocked on the Cheez Menace—don't look at me like you don't buy your contraband cravings from there too, batarian! I've seen you skulking around!"

Aria turned away. "I see you've got your priorities straight."

"I was saving them for a special occasion." She plopped herself down on the couch, leaning an elbow against her thigh and cradling her head in her hands.

"And where are you going to live now?"

"Pssh. Please. Unlike you, I have friends."

Aria's eyes narrowed. "Your life expectancy is slimming, Shepard. I suggest you remedy your cheekiness."

Shepard huffed, half-smiling. "Why? It's the only reason you've kept me alive. Exhibit A, the fact that you called me here and sent your grunts to put out the fire at my apartment."

"Don't be disgusting." Aria leaned back, looking up at the ceiling of her club. "I owed your drell employer this small favor. He also told me to get you some place to stay."

"What? He could have called me himself." Shepard opened her omni-tool interface, searching her mail for messages from Feron. She frowned at the empty inbox. "Tell him I got myself covered."

"You are not staying with the Ardat-Yakshi."

Shepard's smile turned into a frown. "But her couch is exotic Terril fur. Woah—I'm kidding, mom. I don't want to die."

"You're also not staying with the doctor. Too many enemies."

"But I like his songs!" Shepard crossed her arms and leaned back against the couch. "And I don't want to live with you."

"Why the hell not?"

"Really? You're really asking me that?"

Aria glared. Shepard would have said that maybe she was a little hurt but that wasn't possible. "Fine. Do what you want. I've put some money into an account—"

She put her hand up. "No thanks, mom. I'll be fine. Last thing you need is your men thinking you've gone soft."

Aria took a sip of her drink. "I warn you: this is the only help I'll be extending to you."

"I get it." Shepard stood, hands sinking into her pockets. She left without another look or wave goodbye. She was sure the queen herself wouldn't rise from her throne to take a peek at her, not at the risk of seeming weak.

On her way out, hood up and hands in her hoodie pockets, she bumped into a turian in blue civvies—unusual, if not almost cocky (something Aria had said when she eyed Shepard's own attire). He grunted an "Excuse me" and she put her hand up in apology, not saying a word.

"Hey, you should apologize, you little pyjak."

Shepard paused and turned back at the dual-toned but female voice. She hadn't realized he had a companion. Her silver and grey armor matched the white colony markings on her face. She stared down at Shepard like she was varren shit, her gold eyes gleaming. She put one hand on her tiny waist, one foot tapping, waiting.

Shepard tilted her head. It's not like she was asking for trouble. But the guy beside her didn't care, and if there was anyone who should apologize it should be him because damn, it's not like she had a shred of armor on.

"Let it go, Titania."

"Hell no, Vakarian. This little girl owes you an—"

"Leave it." He motioned with his head at someone, somewhere above and behind him. Shepard stole a brief glance at the general direction.

So, mom was keeping an eye on her after all. Shepard's concern about her looking weak was unfounded, in fact, she looked more powerful than ever with her arms crossed. Her eyes—though expressionless—were directed at her. There was no mistaking it— she'd send her hounds on these two if anything escalated.

"Kids these days—they know a few people in high places and they think they're the shit." The female turian eyed her one more time before stomping ahead.

The guy nodded at her. Their silver-blue eyes locked on to each other, unobstructed. "Try to be more careful, kid." His tone was far more understanding—apologetic even. He chuckled. "Sorry if my companion was huffy. Take care of yourself."

Shepard shrugged. That seemed to be enough for him because he nodded and followed after the other turian. Shepard looked up again at Aria, same expression and stance firmly in place.

Shepard shook her head, before she reached into her pack and brought out an encrypted datapad and handed it to the krogan bouncer. "Hand it to the queen. Tell her Shepard sends her regards."

Without any further disturbances, she set off in a run.

* * *

Continue?


	2. Chapter 2

_And continued. :) Thanks to all those who are reading! (And wonderful people who left their comments as well).  
_

_As promised, I will continue. Enjoy._

**When it Rains in Omega **

**Part II**

"So," Shepard batted her silver-blue eyes up at the Salarian doctor. "As you can see, I'm in a little bit of a pickle. Can I please-please-please stay here?"

Dr. Mordin Solus spared her a look from the tech he was tinkering with. Apparently, one of the generators wasn't working at optimum efficiency. As a result, a lot of people were crammed into the east wing while in the west one, both of them were dancing around the issue that it was more trouble than it was worth to have a young girl stay in a place full of sick people while he tried to fix one of their makeshift spare generators.

"Clinic not suitable for healthy—"

"I can earn my keep, doc! I can run errands for you. Besides, you have your office which is pretty clean. It's just for a couple of days."

"Drell warned me that you might say that. Instructions state you have to stay low, no running."

"Christ," Shepard brought up her omni-tool. Still an empty inbox. "Is Feron talking to everyone but me now?"

Mordin looked back at his work. "Recommendations make sense. Dangerous for Shepard to stay here. Even with me."

"Doc, despite the nth number of times I've come here with a few cuts and bruises—I can damn well take care of myself. If a firefight breaks out, I'll either help you or run for it. No heroics."

Mordin closed his eyes and sighed. "Fine."

"Yes!"

"No running. Anywhere."

She huffed. "Okay."

"Good. Head to the office. Sleep is necessary."

* * *

She allowed two weeks pass in complete obedience.

Mordin was probably right. She shouldn't be running anywhere. She should be staying in one of the makeshift cots, safe under the blanket, and reading one of the comics she left in his office. Killing time in leisure or looking at the extranet for a cheap place to crash. Probably even tell the doc that the headaches were being bitchier than they normally were.

But he was also asking for the impossible. If there was anything Shepard had to do, wanted to do, it would be running. She opened her stash in the doctor's office—she'd left a few credit chits in there as well as the comics, a chocolate bar which she finished while counting her money. Just enough to buy her a few new sets of clothes since the ones she was wearing would go rank soon.

Also, it was likely whatever was after Feron had found her too (i.e. apartment fire). So really, she shouldn't be running anywhere at all. Yeah.

She slipped her hoodie back on, strapped her bag, and tied the laces of her sneakers. Half a can of instant coffee finished, she left it on the desk and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

She slipped out the window, landing on both feet and took off in a dash towards the market district in Tuhi. She picked up some momentum first before flipping down, skipping a set of stairs— landing on both her feet and rolling back up. To get to one of the trickier shortcuts, she scaled the wall by using the corner to jump from, catching the top with both her hands and pulling herself up. Balancing on the ledge, she flipped down and turned one corner in a run. She leapt across another set of stairs before running into the public shuttle as the doors slid shut. Heading to Tuhi was always a hassle and a distance even she wouldn't do 100 percent on foot while on lockdown (she needed to get back, stat!). She hopped off the ride as soon as her destination was announced and broke into a run, weaving through the rush hour crowd before ducking into an alley, vaulting another wall and jumping over the next then she made it through the window of an abandoned building.

This would be one of the better days, she willed. She would buy herself some new underwear and some loose pants and tank tops, maybe another hoodie if she was feeling indulgent—then she would run back as if nothing happened and the doc didn't have to know that she had disobeyed.

That was until she heard the gunshots as she leapt down from climbing a gate. It wasn't uncommon to hear gunfire in Omega. You can hear the echoes of distant bullets across districts if the speakers of Afterlife didn't get in the way. But the noise of rapid gunfire—assault rifles, likely—and a stampede of boots was far too close for comfort.

She ducked behind a dumpster, willing them to pass quickly. A few hissing sounds and screeches told her that they were a group of vorcha. A roar and the thundering of the ground underneath her and she knew there would be one or two krogans in the mix as well. Even the smell of garbage didn't deter the stench of rank hides and old blood that stank and stained their armor like badges of honor.

Blood Pack. Christ. She hated dealing with Blood Pack more than any other super power in Omega. More likely to resort to violence and more likely to give chase for sport— even by the higher ups who should know her at least by reputation—they were unskilled in the running department but they were good at the tearing flesh and aimless lucky-shot-to-the-liver thing.

"Find him!"

Hugging her knees and taking slow, quiet breaths—screw the rotting pile of garbage across, making the tin dumpster totally useless—she let them pass, watching behind her, their shadows next to her feet rushed like the wave of a black sea.

They left the streets silent and she breathed a sigh of relief before standing, brushing off the grime on her cargos and hoodie before stretching.

A tin can clanged against the asphalt, she looked across her—blinking at the pile of trash—

And at the three fingered hand that burst through it.

There was a clamoring of moving garbage, her own screaming, a sharp intake of breath as a turian rose from his grave of filth and she fell on her ass at the sight and smell of him; still screaming, she searched for something painful and heavy to throw at his looming, tall figure.

Then he crumpled back to the ground, holding his side with a curse her translator didn't pick up. He groaned. She was still screaming as she reached for anything she could throw at him: an empty coffee can, a doll head, a wheel from a toy car, a glass—

"I didn't bury myself in garbage to die because some kid threw a bottle at my head." He was on all fours, panting—a visor covered one barely seeing eye and he held a hand up to signal her to not throw anything. "And Spirits, how long can humans scream?"

She swallowed, clutching her chest and her pounding heart. "How am I supposed to keep quiet? You came out of the garbage!"

He blinked wearily but managed a breathy chuckle. "Is that what you tell all the homeless vorcha you see?"

She opened her mouth to counter, bottle raised until she realized she had nothing to say against that kind of reasoning (rude as it was). The bottle clanged as she put it down and she stared up at the apartment complex's fire escapes and Omega's perpetually dark sky. He started coughing and she turned back to him sharply. Groaning, he clutched his side and she noted the blue blood staining his gloved hands.

She cleared her throat. "Is this a bad time to ask how you got that?"

He rasped, trying to laugh. "Right now is a bad time for anything but a nice warm bed, kid. And, mm, maybe I'd make an exception for a full bottle of that brand of alcohol you were holding." He crawled, reaching into the pile of garbage and brandished a Mantis sniper rifle from the filth. Using it like a cane, he got up slowly to his feet—took two steps before kicking a can and tripping— leaning heavily against the wall, gasping for air as he clenched his rifle in his right fist. The blood poured a little freely through the holes of his blue armor until he holstered his weapon, folding itself behind his back, and he staunched his wound with the free hand.

"Um, you want some help?"

He took a few small steps forward, still leaning against the wall, before pushing himself and finding some momentum. He held tightly to his injury and straightened his back enough that he cursed something the translator didn't pick up. "No, I'm all right, kid. Get going. Blood Pack everywhere."

She took a tiny step back. Shit, if they were after him then she shouldn't even be seen remotely near him. She looked back behind her at the gate she jumped from. She could easily climb back and take another detour to the Tuhi Shopping District. The turian was as good as dead if they ever found him anyway and in Omega, people died because of gang wars every day, every hour—that was just the way of life here.

The turian smeared blue blood on the wall as he leaned on it as he peeked past the corners of the alleyway. He took a deep breath.

She was right behind him in a second. "Don't turn right. You'll run into a bulk of them." She walked passed him and into the empty street. "If we don't get you into a clinic or something you'll die of an infection like some sad quarian." She shrugged. "That's if you don't bleed to death first. Doc Solus' clinic is a little too far from here. Any ideas? Omni-gel? Doctor friends nearby?"

He rasped. "All out. And no—I—" He coughed. "Don't know a lot of people. Don't want to get them involved in—this."

She reached into her pack and logged the dispenser of the omni-gel into his omni-tool. He groaned in relief. "Better?"

"Spirits, why didn't you do that before I stood up and walked all the way here in crippling pain?"

She shrugged, hands in her hoodie pockets. "I didn't have a reason to give it to you."

He wasn't fully healed but at least his breath was evening out. Through his visor, he gave her an ice blue glare which she returned.

His eyes widened for a bit. He turned away first. "I hear something."

She hissed a curse. She was surprised he caught that too—must be a turian thing. In her case, you didn't develop an almost inhuman sense for danger and still be a living information courier. "The fools are going back around. You think you can run?"

He looked down at his still gaping wound, at his blood covered hand, then stared down at her blankly.

"I feel the gratitude." She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I can condone with hobbling. Just keep up."

He barked out a laugh. "What makes you think I would just follow you?"

The sound of running feet was like the sound of distant thunder. She looked up at the sky again, black and vast. It seemed so far away from where they stood in some forsaken part of an even more forsaken place. Damn, she felt the beginnings of the headache coming on. "What? You wanna exchange names first? Extranet addresses? Hobbies?"

He chuckled softly before grunting, hand clenched over his wound. Eyes shifted behind the blue light of his visor interface. "Garrus."

She blinked. "What?"

"Name. It's Garrus Vakarian. Yours?"

She blinked twice. Lifting her hood to cover her hair and hide her eyes in a little shadow. "Millie. Millie Shepard." She turned her gaze around them, finding nothing and no one. She looked up at the Omega sky before sighing. "The doc's clinic is a distance from here, Garrus. Let's find the next best thing for now."


	3. Chapter 3

_With the holidays and exams approaching, I nearly forgot to update this. Hope that doesn't stop you from reviewing! Thanks for all the R&R's from the last chapters._

**When it Rains in Omega III**

Tuhi had some fair commercial tradesmen along the main road. But just like any part of Omega, the branches from there led to darker and slinkier merchants. Deeper still, at the thinner veins of any good tree, one could find the fruits of a more evil sort.

With Garrus standing beside her, a little out of breath but still as intimidating as a turian in full armor could be (never mind the internal injuries the omni-gel couldn't fully fix). She knocked on the steel door of one of the many lined up shacks.

A peep door slid open and four narrowed eyes looked at her. "Shep'rd." He spat. Then he sniffled. "State yur business."

Garrus shifted to stand behind her, in view of the peep door. Shepard put her hands on her hips. "Zai. What's with the attitude?"

"I watched yur apartment burn, kid. Ya must have pissed som'ne big off." He sniffed. Fucking junkie was likely high on something. "Bad fur business."

"Don't be a fucking pussy, batarian." She waved her hands. "I'll be off your property in a second. Just give me some of that new med tech stuff—medi-gel, was it?"

He tipped his head back and laughed. She tapped her feet and crossed her arms. Eyebrow arched.

"Hak Shepard, when it rains in Omega, I'll be shur to pass ya da goods."

"Not kidding, Zai."

"Yeah? Well, shit fur ya, pyjack. I ain't givin' ya dis stuff. Dis is A-grade. Str'ight from the Citadel tah replace da crap omni-gel. Planning ta sell it fur ten times its price to da locals." He chuckled to himself. "I wo'ldn't even give it to ya if ya begged on yur knees!"

She reached inside the peeping door, hands and arms small and long enough to reach the collar of his heavy armor; she sank her fingers in there and pulled him towards her, over and over again till he hit his head and his top eyes three, four, five times.

"Listen you batarian shit." She hissed at him. Sucks for Zai that she had a migraine that was coming on strong now. "I may be on the other side of your fucking door but I will bash your thick skull open if you don't give me what I want. Don't think I don't know the medi-gel is being controlled by Eclipse and if they find out that you're selling it at—"

"Fuck, Shep'rd." Blood flowed from the gash on his forehead, his two upper eyes were closed and maybe he was half blind now but likely not. Not that she'd feel really guilty about it. Zai didn't sell her the chips. She never liked him either—he cheated in cards.

She let go of him and he rushed to throw out the medi-gel pack, all neat in its bubble wrapping. "If I see yur mug in 'ese parts again—"

"Yeah, fuck you too, Zai." She picked up the pack and flashed him the bird.

He slid the door closed on her with a snap, the lock reactivated. She walked up to the turian. Handed him the medi-gel, then buried her hands in her pockets.

Garrus looked down at the pack between his talons. "Was that necessary?"

She rolled her eyes. "Christ, did you just move in to Omega or something? These black market traders will piss all over you if give them an inch." She shrugged, walking back to the direction of the main road. "Wouldn't have done it otherwise. I guess."

She walked for a little longer until she sensed the him stop behind her—applying the medi-gel while staring intently at her. They held each other with their eyes. As intimidating as it was to stare a turian straight in the eyes, Shepard didn't back down, puffing out her chest. He took a deep breath.

"Problem, Garrus?"

He walked up to her, ruffling her hair with one hand. "Nothing, kid. Thanks."

"Hey! Watch the 'do!" She batted his hand away. She flattened her now spikey hair before putting her hood back up, quickening her pace to avoid his hand again. They joined the main crowd. "So, what was with the Blood Pack?"

His whole body stiffened at the question. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "Pretty sure Garm was in there. And he always gets his pissy Vorcha to do everything for him." She looked left and right then signaled Garrus with the tilt of her head to blend in with a wave of people. "You must have really stepped on his toes. What's the deal?"

He cleared his throat. "Wrong place, wrong time. You know."

She rolled her eyes. "You can just tell me it's private, Garrus. No need to make crappy lies." They walked a bit further before she reached out for his forearm, pulling him to another alley. She looked up at the winding fire escape before she let go of his arm. She dashed ahead, leaping and grabbing the edge of the protruding ladder before using her upper body strength to climb. She removed the lock and the ladder slid down, steel against steel, landing on asphalt with a clang.

Garrus stared up at her from the ground, mandible wide open. "How old did you say you were again?"

She shrugged. "I didn't." She motioned for him to start climbing and he did, slowly and with a little more breath before he reached the top—huffing. "Still pretty bad?"

"Achy. Though the meds did make everything bearable." He held his side and then pointed at his hip. "More internal damage than it looks." They continued up the flight of stairs. "But really, you can't be more than fifteen?"

"Sixteen." She pouted, not that he could see that with her back turned to him and her hood up. Yeah, maybe she was a little small for sixteen but she was fucking stronger than a batarian on stims. She cleared her throat, making the effort to lower her voice. "I'm still growing though. So you watch out."

"Uh huh." He said off-handedly. "Where did you learn to do—the jumping and all that? I saw you climb that gate too."

"Through your little garbage heap?" She jumped off the staircase and into the roof. Looking up the dark sky and taking a deep breath, this was removing the edge of the migraine a little—the running and talking, which surprised her because nothing much really removed the ache other than running before and she took another deep breath.

She made a run to the edge to check the distances between the buildings, Garrus still in the middle. "Well, since you're a tourist who got himself on the wrong side of the Blood Pack, let me enlighten you: Omega isn't a pretty place. You learn a few things, fend for yourself, make a friend worthy of your trust—then boom. You'll live all right."

"So, where did you—learn a few things?"

She shrugged. "As an orphan, one of the first things you learn is theft and larceny. You ask any orphan around these parts and they'll enlighten you while reaching into your pockets." She looked around the building's roof, while Garrus followed her with his eyes. She smiled to herself when she found a board long and sturdy enough. Bingo. Carrying it without much effort before connecting the nearest building with it, she signaled for him to cross. "I doubt you can leap across buildings in your condition."

"In any condition, actually." He made his way across quickly enough. Shepard was surprised that he seemed to have a good sense of balance. "You don't seem to be like any other orphan though."

She nodded, making her way across and flipping down. She grabbed the board again and set it up to the next building. "True. I've lived longer than most of them." He bowed his head as he made his way across. Shepard sent him a small smile as she followed soon after. "But, anyway, I was part of a small gang of kids. The minority. Being a petty criminal was pretty hard work and not very fulfilling—the skills though, that was another thing. We trained ourselves, called it an art like they did on earth: parkour. Didn't care much for anything else."

"Then—a gang fight broke out near our training grounds. Well," She scratched the back of her head. "You can kind of guess what happened to most of us after. Got picked up by a drell who needed someone who can run for him. Hasn't been so bad until recently."

"Why?" Garrus took one end of the board. She smiled her thanks at him. "What happened recently?"

"Some crazy asshole's been hunting for witches. The locals call him Archangel, we've been crossing paths and, apparently, running around is a dangerous occupation. As you said: wrong place, wrong time—Archangel fucker." She crossed the other building, leaning next to the turian who jumped back a little at her proximity—she put her hand up as an apology. Huh. That was oddly familiar—

She noted Garrus's fatigue and signaled for them to rest for a bit after scanning the sides of the apartment complex they were on.

"Why," Garrus coughed. "Why do you think he's trying to kill you? Have you—done anything wrong?"

She shrugged. "Nothing any civilian hasn't done. But I'm a courier and a good one—there are a few shortcuts that lead me to tricky places. Sometimes the info I bring is for the gangs. Likely conspirator, maybe? But doesn't the turian know the saying 'Don't shoot the messenger'?"

"Maybe he just jumped to conclusions?"

Shepard laughed. "Hah, when it rains in Omega I'll believe that!" She shook her head. "Archangel is a smart son-of-a-bitch. He isn't entirely wrong: I'm giving the bosses important information, which they bought with dirty money, to get ahead of each other." She shrugged. "But I should be the least of his problems. I wouldn't exist if the gangs didn't."

He cleared his throat. "I see."

"So," Shepard tilted her head to the side. "What brings you around here, tourist?"

"Tourist?"

"Well, you're all shiny and new. You definitely don't seem to be like me—or any local I've met." He turned away from her. She leaned back on the ledge. "Oh come on, Garrus. I gave you all the tidbits I could offer about myself. Give and take."

"I was C-Sec."

"Oh, I can believe that."

He crossed his arms. "Really?"

She motioned at her upper body. "Shiny and new, remember? C-Sec is a damn good place to work though. Why give that up?"

"Not what they all make it out to be, kid." He sighed. "There's the bureaucracy to deal with for everything. Once you reach the upper ranks, you're restricted. All talk and no action and justice was just a fancy word everyone liked to mention once in a while but no one really knew. It didn't help that I was a bad turian. Bad at listening to bad orders, bad at being obedient, bad at a lot of damn things they expect you to be good at as a C-Sec officer. My father reminded me constantly about it too." He looked over the ledge, spotting the walking masses there and his blue eye blazed with the orange lights from below. "Omega suited me just fine. I didn't have to worry about anyone's expectations but my own."

Shepard looked up at the sky again. "I guess even people with the means find some dissatisfaction with their lives. It isn't just a luxury for those without much." She smiled at him. "At least yours seems like a more philosophical cause than a material one."

He blinked at her for a second. Then he tipped her hoodie off and ruffled her hair, a turian smile on his face that was more intimidating than a shark's. "You say some pretty good things too, huh? For a fifteen year old."

She slapped his hand away again. "Sixteen!" She turned away, eyes narrowed as he laughed at her. "Anyway, we need to get going."

He pushed himself off the ledge. "Where are we going?"

"Friend's place." She tipped the board to the next building. "Not far from here. We're gonna borrow a skycar to get back to Gozu. Risky to hit the public transit units or take the shuttle with the vorcha scurrying everywhere."

"Hm." There was some silence as he crossed another building and she followed after him. "Say, Shepard, about Archangel—"

"What about him?" She grumbled.

"What happens if you find out who he is? You know? Omega is a pretty small place."

"Oh? Why so interested?"

He coughed. "No reason."

She tipped the board to the next building. Her smile was wide and feral. "I hear revenge can be pretty satisfying."

Garrus nodded. He didn't speak for the rest of the trip.


	4. Chapter 4

_Wasn't supposed to update, but I really really wanted to. Also hope that I don't need to report tomorrow, haha. This is also a short chapter, be warned.  
_

_Thank you for those who have read and/or reviewed! Enjoy._

**When it Rains in Omega IV**

"… And that's why we need your skycar."

Morinth blinked, lounging on her white couch with a wine glass in her hand. She took a sip. "I see."

Garrus squirmed uncomfortably against the plush, Terril fur. Shepard held back a snicker. Maybe it would have been better if she didn't introduce Morinth as an Ardat-Yakshi—that way, at least if asari in question was giving him the smolder of his life, then he'd only have himself to blame if she sucked his soul out of his mouth before they were out of the room.

"And when do you plan to give it back?"

Shepard counted. "Maybe in 5 hours tops, G-Standard?"

"And how will you get back to the clinic?"

"Uh, run?"

Morinth's swirled her wine. "I heard a certain apartment burned down recently."

Shepard shrugged. "Did it?"

The Ardat-Yakshi turned to her sharply. "And how would you pay me back?"

Shepard put her hands in her pocket and tilted her chin up. "I'm not going to send you a village of virgins if that's what you're thinking." She motioned at Garrus with her head. "I'm also not giving you this guy. He looks scared enough already."

He tossed Shepard a glare. Morinth looked at him with a longing, pitiable look. The way a beast would if it was deprived its favorite meal. "How about this, child: you don't have to pay me now but in the future—when I come to collect— you must reciprocate, do we have a deal?"

Shepard wasn't stupid—this was just like making a deal with the devil. Garrus seemed to know this too because he looked ready to stand and say they could take their chances in public transportation. He definitely wouldn't take the help of an Ardat-Yakshi. Shepard herself has never stayed for more time than necessary—always short and random visits. She never took anything but information and never ate anything even when offered (though Morinth knew not to offer).

But if they were take their chances on the streets? His wounds weren't as severe but if they met trouble then he'd definitely prefer they split up. Not something Shepard would agree to. He was tough but Garrus probably had as much luck as a rat in a maze.

Shepard sighed and stood up. "Thanks but no thanks."

Morinth finished her wine with a final sip. She smiled. "You know your way out."

Garrus only seemed to breathe when the door slid closed and locked behind them. Shepard sighed, one hand in her pocket and the other rubbing the back of her neck. He cleared his throat. "I had my hand near my pistol the entire time. Never thought I could ever feel my life ticking away while sitting on the most comfortable chair in my life."

"Yeah. Thought she was going to jump you for a minute there." She chuckled. They started walking down the hallway, she pressed the button for the elevator and they stood in front of it, staring.

"She could also be biding her time with you."

Shepard shrugged. "She knows there will be a day when I'll stop coming by. Today could be that day. Still," She pulled her hood up. "Until today she's never tried to put me under her spell. She's poison, sure, but everyone in Omega is." She faced him. "Even an outsider like you."

He shuffled his feet. "You know, kid you don't have to—"

She put her hand up to stop him. "I do know. But, hey, you're probably the most interesting thing that's happened to me in a long time. Based on that alone, you're worth keeping alive by my assessment." She coughed. "Fuck, the 'God must hate me days' you brought about."

"God must hate you what?"

"Nothing. Just mumbling to myself, Garrus."

The elevator chimed and opened. She stepped in first and he followed, looking confused, and she smiled. She pressed the button B2 before the doors slid closed. The headache had subsided for now, and she was feeling much better.

"The basement? Aren't we going to the ground floor? Or the roof?" She grinned up at him. He took a step back and made a strange strangled noise that must have been some equivalent of going pale. "You didn't."

She pulled her hand out of her pocket, a keycard and a skycar alarm dangling between her fingers. "But I did."

"She is going to hunt us down and suck our souls out."

"Only if she finds out."

* * *

By the time they got back to Gozu, Garrus had hit his head on the dashboard a grand total of 4 times. The last one, coupled with his already internal bleeding and what other pains he had suffered and had not shared with her, had his heart pounding in his chest. The adrenaline rush did nothing to help him from keeping himself barely awake, if it was even possible, he felt even more dizzy and weak.

It was also the first time she might have heard a turian scream. It would have been funnier if he didn't grab the wheel from her and ordered her out of the driver's seat. Driving might have also helped make those injuries worse.

Mordin looked down at the now sleeping turian tucked under the cover of his own hospital cot. "Impressive, Shepard. Managed to incur more injuries for your friend on the ride here— now, on the brink of death. Moreover, disobeyed instructions. Now you are not to leave the premises for any reason. Anything you'd like to say to express the idiosyncrasies of your adolescence before grounding?"

"Yeah. I have to give the car back to Morinth or she's gonna look for Garrus and suck his soul out of his penis—oh, wait, doc, do turians have—"

He put his hand up, shaking his head. "Do not continue."

"Aye, sir." She coughed behind her hand.

"Be back in three hours, GS."

"Three, sir? I haven't bought my clothes."

"Five. No more. Get out." Mordin exhaled heavily. Wordlessly, he waved his hand to dismiss her and she did a little victory dance as she dashed back out and into the skycar.

When Garrus woke up, it had been about 32 hours—a little groggy on painkillers but still the doc said he would be free to go with another night of observation and a bottle of pills he had to take twice a day for the next week, to counter the bacteria that might have settled in the wounds left open for too long.

He also woke up to her tinkering with his omni-tool, listening to track 15 of his soundtrack which happened to be the turian anthem "Die for the Cause," and watching a vid through his visor—a recording of one his ambushes of an Eclipse shipment that culminated with the death of Jaroth's brother.

"I've watch this about fifteen times, Garrus. Man, it never gets old." She looked at him. The light from the visor's interface made her fair skin glow blue. "Archangel tactics have always been pretty admirable. I should know—been on the wrong end enough times."

He sat up like his pillow was on fire. "Shepard, let me explain."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Aw, come on, Garrus. There aren't a lot of turians who could send Blood Pack into a frenzy. Blue armor? Nifty rifle? If we had walked our way here you'd have died like a dog. Too easy to ID."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. For all the times—"

She paused the vid— it was her favorite part too when Archangel sent a bullet through two mercs, a human and a batarian. Too fucking awesome. "It's in the past. You're not a bad guy. Omega could use a purge. Besides, Aria could stand to get her ass off that couch and watch her empire crumble. She knows she needs to start fixing the place up even a little."

He looked surprised at first before his shoulders slumped and then he chuckled. "So, you're keeping me alive for my entertainment value?"

"Have you re-watched these vids? I could sell these and would never have to save up for potato chips again. And as for revenge? I think almost killing you on the ride here was enough payback."

He groaned. "You're vicious for a fifteen year old."

She hissed. "Sixteen!"

He reached out for her hair and messed it up until she threatened to bite him. He retrieved his hand right away. "Watch it, kid. My plates would crack your milk teeth—well, I guess that's a good thing."

She glared. "I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah." He ruffled her hair again—quickly— before she could stop him and he laughed as she sat on the far side of the room, watching the vids and commenting on his tactics with humor and excitement. Garrus sighed, lying back down as he watched her. They spent the day talking, eating, and doing nothing of consequence.

By the end of the day, Shepard crawled up to the edge of Garrus's bedside with his visor still on, both of fast asleep when Mordin walked in to check on them.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you to all readers and reviewers! Enjoy._

**When it Rains in Omega V**

It had been two months since Garrus left the clinic, though he visited often. Sometimes they spent the whole time talking. Other times, they spent hours on opposite corners of the room, doing their own thing. Shepard would have grilled the turian about why he came by so often, having fun watching him squirm if he tried to lie, but she did know why he was there. He felt sorry for the orphan who didn't have much company and who was bored out of her mind because of the house arrest (even though Mordin had said she should only stay a few days more, which made being grounded null. She knew the old salarian was just shy about his feelings or something and didn't actually want her to leave).

And, perhaps, her spamming Garrus's inbox probably helped clue him into the fact that she might be a little lonely and a little bored. She did it because she enjoyed Garrus's company more than she had enjoyed anyone's in a really long time. And maybe, just damning maybe, she was experiencing a (one-sided) crush.

Yeah, so he was older and a turian. Then there were also their difference in occupations to think about. Vigilante. Former information courier for his enemies.

And did she mention that he was older and turian?

Shepard didn't want to stress the details—or at least, think about them the way she ought to.

It wasn't just Garrus who was interesting (just the most, she admitted openly— to herself). Usually, when he did visit he wasn't alone. She'd become acquainted with most of his team save Erash who barely left their HQ because he was "fussy beyond compare" as the ex-merc Vortash put it and the second-in-command Sidonis who took care of the base when Garrus was out. Sensat, an asari who was at least 500 years old, liked to give her sweets every time she dropped by—one time she even brought ice cream, Vanilla, something Shepard hadn't had since she started working for Feron.

Feron. Where the hell was that drell? Shepard checked her mail often but it always came up empty. She'd sent out a few discreet feelers that only he'd tap into—coded messages that would go through all sorts of media—but she got nothing so far. Maybe Feron wasn't in the same system anymore? Maybe he was—

"So, you're an information runner?"

Shepard had run out of comics to reread. Now, she had moved on to some classic asari literature. Every once in a while, she'd venture into the human stuff but all Mordin had were medical journals on human anatomy. When Weaver visited, he'd read beside her while chattering idly about what it was like to be in N-school.

She looked over the datapad to frown up at the older human, Butler, whose red hair was as loud as he was and whose bright brown eyes were almost always too eager. "Information courier. Haven't we been over this before?"

"Oh, just humor me!" He cleared his throat, running his fingers through a phantom beard. "I remember chasing the likes of you back when I wasn't in Archangel, just a bastard merc. Ohoho, those good old days."

"You are so weird."

Butler glared back. Ready to start berating her for being a "youngin'"—then again, Butler had come up with weirder scripts in her company. The most entertaining one by far was when he said he was a stripper and then attempted to perform his 'routine' (and he would have seriously taken his pants off too if Mierin, this blondie who was former C-Sec, hadn't threatened to shoot his dick off).

Off to the corner, Garrus was tinkering with his omni-tool. Cussing before tapping furiously, he hadn't spared them a look since they both arrived. "Boss says you aren't running now?"

"Employer bumped into some trouble. Instructed me to stay low." She motioned at Garrus's direction with her head. "What's his problem?"

Butler rolled his eyes. "Lover's spat."

The datapad nearly fell out of her slack hands. "Garrus has a girlfriend?"

"Shh, girl. Don't let the boss hear!" Butler pulled her down by the shoulder, their foreheads nearly bumping. "He's been seeing this girl on and off. I don't get these turian things but Mel—you remember, Mel don't you?"

Shepard nodded gravely. Of course she remembered Melanis, the female turian. She was the only one in Garrus's whole crew who grew up in Omega as an orphan as well. They got along the best. "Yeah."

He nodded with the same gravity. "Well, she says this Titania is a serious babe. Jaw dropping, mouthwatering—all that jazz."

Titania? Where did she hear that before—wait.

She smirked. "Mel wants to kill her, huh?"

Butler chuckled. "There's that. Titania is a former turian cavalier turned Talon Merc. They've been dancing around each other since—well, since they encountered each other in a mission around five months ago. Anyway, it wouldn't be good if it got out that the boss was dating the enemy, right? Mm hmm. Tension."

"Butler, we have to leave. Grab your gea— what are you guys doing?"

Butler stood up, hands up. "Nothing you wouldn't do to a kid, boss."

Garrus came up behind them, eyes moving between the two before they narrowed. "I wouldn't lean my forehead with— nevermind, Butler. We're moving out. Stop playing around."

"Ugh. Says the guy who's been making out with—all right, all right. Don't glare me to death. I have my pack and I'm moving out the door."

Garrus waited for Butler to leave and the door to shut before he turned to Shepard. She had her hands in her hoodie pockets, looking down at the floor. He tilted his head. "You all right, kid?"

"Fine."

She looked up at him, unblinking. Grey-blue eyes met a matching pair. His head was tilted but his eyes narrowed. She resisted the shudder and the urge to punch him on the hip so she could see him squirm.

"It's really nothing."

He sighed, nodded, and ruffled her hair before he left. She frowned down at her holo books. Now, she didn't feel like reading at all.

* * *

A few quiet days later, Shepard found herself reading a new holo book by an asari fictionist. One minute, she was rooting for the hero (or, heroine?) to end up with his/her asari partner, despite the stigma against pairs who were both asari (fucking society, always getting in the way of love). The next minute Grundan grabs her chair, Mierin blindfolds her, and she's dropped into a skycar and whisked away. She would have done the whole kicking and screaming thing if she didn't hear Garrus's voice in the cockpit of the skycar.

Now, she was in—a basement somewhere. It was large and off to one side were boxes piled up atop each other and on the other side was a makeshift shooting range with targets set up and everything. Her eyes still trying to adjust to the light, she spotted the people from Archangel that were present: Mel, whose back was turned to them until they arrived and she put her rifle down. Vortash, whose shiny bald head was reflecting the pale yellow light above them like a second sun was sitting atop a cargo box and smoking on a pipe. Then there were the alleged kidnappers: Mierin, Grundan, Butler, and Garrus.

"Okay, what the fuck."

"Sorry, Shepard." Garrus scratched the back of his head. "The doctor said to only let you out in a controlled environment—which was the base—"

"But we can't let you know where the base is—even if we trusted you, there were professional reasons." Mierin walked up to her, slow and all easy confidence as she patted her on the head with one hand and held the rifle in the other. "They were all fussy about it but I thought you'd understand. The boss and Mierin said you looked bored to death every time they came to visit so—here you are."

"True." Shepard grinned and then frowned just as fast. "But you're looking down on me. Like I wouldn't figure out where your base was?" She looked at their blank stares and she shook her head. She inhaled deeply, taking in the smell in the air—rubber, food, smoke, sweat. She noted the steel casing of the cargo, the metal of the walls. "We're in Kima."

They tried to not give anything away. But Garrus looked away and Mierin looked at her feet. And all the rest stiffened.

"No need to confirm or deny. The smell gave it away." She heard the camera above her move to face them directly, she turned and looked up at it and waved. Their tech expert batarian was likely watching her like a hawk now. "Hey, Erash!"

The speakers around the base crackled to life. "Do we kill her, boss?"

"Erash!" Mierin yelled at the camera.

"Sounds friendlier than the stories." Shepard shrugged. "I don't know the exact location, no worries."

"Damn, kid. You can tell where we are by the _smell_? You a dog or a varren or what?" Vortash blew out the smoke from his pipe.

She shifted her weight from her toes to her heels, standing in place with her hands in her hoodie pockets. "I've been told that I'm more like a wild animal than human. It's hard to argue. So," She eyed Garrus. "Is it still safe for me to be here?"

Garrus chuckled. Cool and confident and not worried in the slightest. "It's always safe for you to be here, Shepard."

She quelled the stupid feeling in her stomach and put it off as indigestion or something. She looked away and faced Melanis. "So, what are we doing here today?"

"You said you don't know how to shoot." Mierin bumped her with her hip, pushing her to the range. "Wanna learn how?"

Shepard practically squealed. She never wanted to invest on a gun while running around Omega—going around armed meant being perceived as a threat. Looking like a threat for her profession was more dangerous than looking like prey. When she met Feron, she thought she might need to at least learn how to use one in case she landed herself in a firefight. Feron himself was supposed to teach her but—

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Shepard listened while Melanis was talking her through the basics of gun handling—how to hold it, to watch out for recoil, her stance, how to aim properly. By pairs or trios, the rest of the team was taking turns practicing. Before her turn, Garrus and Mierin stepped up and Mel instructed her to watch. Shepard nodded, hands cradling the borrowed pistol.

Mel bent down, hand on her shoulder and mandible near her ear. She whispered, "Mei is a great shot but keep your eyes on the boss. You won't find a better marksman even on the Citadel. And listen. The boss calls it dancing."

Shepard didn't need to be told twice. She already knew that, even if she had no idea how well people in the Citadel were trained. He leveled his rifle, looked through his scope.

There was a rhythm to his shooting— and the precision and accuracy was spot on. Where he wanted it to be, the bullet was. Shepard held her breath watching—would she ever be able to do that too? Right now, that didn't matter. She was always on the other end of the scope and she recognized that if she didn't move as fast as she could or knew the terrain so well, she might not have been here. It was a horrible thought but she felt excited—her heart was beating fast as she watched him, the way his eyes looked—lit like fire glinting off a knife's edge, the confidence he emitted from his stance and the certainty that his bullet would meet his intended target.

Mel sighed. "He's amazing, right?"

Shepard nodded, agreeing—but for all the wrong reasons.


	6. Chapter 6

_Happy holidays, everyone! Next update for any of my fics will be after New Year as life is busy spending time with family, etc. Hope this chapter finds you and your holidays well. :)_

_**Enjoy!**_

**When it Rains in Omega VI**

"I didn't call you here."

Shepard shrugged. "I know. It's one of the ways I can actual annoy you. Surr-prize!"

Aria's face didn't even twitch. The old lady was good at that, crossing her legs and leaning back against the couch with her arms spread out like wings over it. But since she wasn't glaring directly at Shepard, it also meant that she was all right with her company—if only out of curiosity.

Of course, Shepard was eager to inform her.

"I think I'm in love with Archangel."

Aria spat out the rum she was sipping halfway. The dancers who were constantly dancing stopped. A few of Aria's men climbed up the stairs to see what was going on, guns drawn.

Aria turned sharply towards her. With a single hand signal, she sent all her men down the stairs, even her dancers, until they were completely alone. The music never stopped in the club but the beat was so far away compared to the drumming beat of Shepard's own heart against her ears.

Aria put her glass down, it landed with a clank against the small, glass table she always brought out when she was drinking. "You're joking."

Shepard shrugged, digging her hands deeper into her pockets. "Sadly not."

"Did he—Did he _try_ anything?"

Shepard eyes took up her whole face when her hood slid off her head. "Christ—no!"

Aria body slumped down, partly relieved. "I wasn't even thinking about—that stuff— at your age."

"You have the luxury of a thousand years. I wouldn't be surprised if you had some kid somewhere who's 200 years older than me or something."

Aria shrugged the comment off. "Look at you. You're not even dressed like you're looking for romance."

Shepard looked down at her grey hoodie and baggy black cargo pants. There was a huge stain on her sneakers—one she hoped was some kind alcoholic drink and not blood. Then she looked down at one of the female asaris wearing a tight smile, posed in heels too high and skirt too short. Shepard shrugged. "Can't I look for love and be comfortable?"

"Hm." Aria leaned back, hands on her lap. Now she was calculating. "He's way too old for you."

A nod. "I know."

"And turian."

"Yeah."

Aria wrinkled her nose. "And he's a stick-up-his-ass tourist. If he wasn't so entertaining, he'd be dead."

Shepard fell back onto the couch, one leg dangling off it. "What do I do?"

"Why in Omega are you asking me?"

Shepard turned to her. "Don't you have some matriarchal wisdom to bestow on me? And you're a girl—sorta. What would you do?" Aria looked at her long and hard and then Shepard laughed. "Wait, I know exactly what you'd do—you'd leave a dead animal at that person's doorstep as a sign of love."

Aria shrugged. It was a small minute one that Shepard could have missed if she wasn't watching. "There isn't much older than me and race isn't my problem."

"Your kind are such slu—" The glare sent her way could have killed her. "Welcoming people."

Aria's face was an emotionless mask again as she leaned back. She eyed the contents of her glass, looked through it with unclouded eyes as she brought it up to her face, like she was inspecting something foreign and fascinating in there that wasn't rum at all. "Courtship isn't so hard when you're queen of Omega but it's not like I'm hunting."

"Hunting? Is that really the right word?" Shepard reached up to the red lights above them, staring up at the silhouette of her hand. She squinted. "It sounds very aggressive."

Aria smiled. "Well, love can be a very aggressive thing. And I did so enjoy the hunt at one point. But attachment can become confining—limiting. Sometimes even lonelier than being alone."

Aria waited for Shepard to say anything else before she finished the rum in her glass. The floor was empty save for them and she didn't look like she was going to call her people back anytime soon. Shepard huffed, hand falling back down to her side. Her head was spinning but she wasn't sure if it was because of those migraines again—or if it was because she was thinking of Garrus and what he'd say if she told him; or if it was because she also thought of Aria and whoever she fell in love with—years before, ages before and how that must have ended for her because she was being so creepy and honest and quiet without being menacing.

Shepard slithered her way to Aria's side of the couch, top of her body pressed against the bouncy, red material. Resting her head against her upturned palm, she grinned. "Hey, old lady."

"Hm."

"Maybe we should get pets."

Aria looked at her like she was developing secondary organs right before her eyes. "You're shitting me."

"No, no—I'm fucking serious. I mean, pets love their masters, right? I read it in one of the doc's med journals about therapy using animals. If we take care of them, anyway."

"Hah, maybe when it rains in Omega. You can barely feed yourself. What's your animal going to eat? Your fingernails?"

Shepard frowned. How could she just say that and not even crack a smile? "Aw come on, I'd really take care of it. Has to be smart though. And could go on runs with me— a bonafide _traceur_, like me? Yeah, a Tracer like me would be nice. You said there should be more couriers of my skill level, right? Oh, maybe even a biotic one? Aren't there a lot of those in Thessia? Some of them even have longer life spans than the dogs and cats on earth, right?"

Aria rolled her eyes. "You're pretty picky for a kid with no money."

Shepard grinned. "Well, we all need to have standards."

"Says the one who fell in love with Archangel."

Shepard frowned. But then she reached out and pulled at the asari's white sleeve. "Ariaaa."

Aria rolled her eyes again. She was making more faces now that she usually did. "It's not going to replace love. You know that, right, Shepard?"

Shepard sat up, still facing Aria and still on her side of the couch. Legs crossed in a lotus position and hands on her knees. Aria eyed her scuffed sneakers and the gross stain on one of them— but it wasn't like her couch was so clean anyway. "I'm sixteen not twelve."

"It's hard to note the difference every time I speak to you."

Shepard bounced in place. "Ariiaaaa. You're the only one with moneeey." When Aria looked straight ahead, as if she wasn't there even when she pulled on the asari's white sleeve, Shepard's whole body sagged. "Fine, how about a deal. When Archangel rejects me—"

"I like the confidence."

Shepard frowned. "I'm not delusional. He doesn't even know I like him and it's not like I've been hiding it." She coughed. And then pulled at the sleeve again. "Anyway, when he does that then I definitely deserve a consolation prize, okay? You know the specifications, Aria. And make sure it doesn't look like it crawled out of a toilet bowl, all right? Get yourself something cute too. Like a parakeet that can rest on your shoulder and echo all your orders. You can also wear an eye patch."

"If you don't think I don't understand that reference, you are sorely mistaken."

They had a stare off. Shepard frowned but she kept her eyes steady and sure even under Aria's mightier, older eyes. Just when all hope was lost and the noise from all over the club was finally starting to register, Aria sighed and then turned away.

"I'll think about it."

That was all Aria said before she made another signal at one of the cameras in front of them, with that her people began to flood back into the floor and they weren't alone anymore. This was closest thing to soft Shepard had ever witnessed from the asari. It couldn't even compare to the first time they met—back when Aria had brought her into the club, 10 years old with a bleeding nose and stab wound and a broken arm and told her that if she didn't know how to fight the vorcha then she had better run next time because there was no way in hell she was ever going to save her pyjak ass for free a second time.

Shepard beamed—it was likely Aria's way of avoiding a hug because, hell, Shepard wouldn't forgive herself if Omega ever equated Aria with the word soft—but still she didn't let go of her sleeve until Mordin's message—angry but spare— called her home.

* * *

Because she knew that she would be rejected, Shepard didn't have any plans to tell Garrus. Sure, she was nicer to him—more so than even to Mordin and Feron (especially Feron, the asshole) and was oddly obedient to his suggestions. The few times she was brought back to Archangel HQ she always asked both Mel and Garrus to help her with practice—and she would watch Garrus demonstrate with undivided attention (like anyone could help it, even Butler stopped and stared and he was married).

Two weeks after her escape to Afterlife and things were settling down like the dust after a storm, and even with the itch to run—Shepard stayed in the clinic and read—in spite of the headaches, and the visits from the Archangel crew, and Garrus's distracting, turian presence.

Garrus was seated in the far corner of Mordin's office, cleaning his rifles—he came alone to grab some omni-gel packs from the doctor and decided to stay for a bit when he caught Shepard reading a new book.

"Who taught you?" He asked suddenly.

Shepard looked up from her holo. Heart constricting and exploding all at once—she bowed her head and let the shadow of her hood cover the flush on her face. "Taught me what?"

He looked down at the rag in his hands and at the parts of his rifle. "How to read, I mean."

She shrugged, marking the page with a touch of the screen. She was reading slower with him around but that was better than two weeks ago when she just kept reading the same line over and over while he was there. "Mostly self-taught. Downloaded some audio and visual copies of novels and learned from there. When there isn't anything to do, I read—sometimes comics, when I can get my hands on them. Lately med journals and asari poetry, I'd really like to get my hands on some human stuff though. I grew up with Galactic but I'd like to brush up more on my English."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. It took all of Shepard's willpower not to squirm. "You ever read anything by a turian?"

"I tried. But Galactic can't really get all the nuances of the clicking and purring."

"Purring?" He stared at her wide eyed, hand on his heart. "Turians do _not _purr."

"Fine. You growl and rumble like a fierce thunderstorm over the mountain range. Better?"

He chuckled. "Hmm, Shepard, I think you have the makings of a poet-sage."

"Ha. Ha." She rolled her eyes and went back to her reading. Banter always seemed to calm the storm brewing within her.

"My mom taught me how to read." He said, almost as if he was talking to himself. "Dad taught me how to shoot. Always loved the latter more but hell, do I miss seeing her more than the old man."

"Your mom?" Shepard asked, putting the pad down again. "What was she like?"

"Kind. To a fault. Intelligent—that was too a fault too." The blue light from his visor flickered, if he could, he'd probably be playing a memory of her now. "But I'm here now, and I don't think I want to leave anytime soon."

"You really wanna change Omega, huh?"

Garrus faced her, eyes sharp. Her grip tightened around the edges of the pad. "I do. And I have team of the best that can help me do it."

Not a hint of sarcasm or any inflections of wavering. Shepard believed him too. Still, she sighed. "It's been this way for a long, long time. I'm not gonna stop you—but it's not going to take one or two years to clean this place up. And—you're going to butt heads with people I know."

"Maybe right now I've got nothing compared to Aria's kingdom. But a few years from now, you'll see what I see too. That Omega needs to change and it can."

Shepard could see it, in Garrus's eyes as he faced her but wasn't looking at her. There was a future that he wanted with a vengeance—a thirst, a hunger for it that Shepard herself didn't really understand. However, it was looming and dark—towering above both of them like an eternal sentinel, its gaze directed at Garrus and unable to look away.

It had bequeathed to him a grand task, but rather than a shining empire that Garrus seemed to envision Shepard could only see otherwise. What were his reasons for wanting this change? Until recently, he probably didn't even care about Omega—why was he doing this, really?

Shepard could have pondered on this further, maybe even asked about it to see if this was territory she could finally cross and not have him make up weird lies.

But then she came along—sweeping the dust up from their rest, scattering them up again in a gust of wind when she walked into the door.

She had a hand on hip, her armor gleaming against the light in silver and grey—the distinctive colony markings on her face. Shepard knew and remembered the haughty turian in Afterlife that night months back.

"There you are." She walked up to Garrus, arms folded against her chest. "For once that doctor wasn't being so difficult."

Garrus looked immediately concerned, reassembling his now clean rifle parts and settling it back into its holster. He didn't even spare Shepard a look. "Titania," He nodded. "Anything wrong?"

She shrugged. "No, just heard some whispers that a turian comes by the Gozu clinic a lot. You're starting to get noticed by the locals, Garrus. It might mean you'll have to come over here less."

He let go of a long breath, almost as if he was holding it. "Spirits."

"It could get dangerous. And not just for you, Garrus."

Garrus. No one in Archangel even called Garrus by that name. Only Shepard did—and hell, she earned that because she saved his life. What did this lady ever do for him?

Dirty adult things Shepard didn't want to name, obviously. And not something that was worth sulking about. However, what was worth sulking about was what Titania was suggesting—that Garrus stop his visits. So, what if she was making a really good point? Maybe Garrus just had to be sneakier, less casual and more incognito. Maybe he could—

_But attachment can become confining—limiting. Sometimes even lonelier than being alone._

Shepard glared down at the pad. Fuck, she was being stupid. This wouldn't do at all. She was sixteen and human. They just didn't fit and she knew that. And he did too.

So, why was it that she kept on hoping and looking and thinking? Even when she knew Garrus had the emotional sensitivity of driftwood. Someone like her wouldn't give him much incentive to think otherwise.

She needed some finality. And even if her palms got sweaty and her teeth gnashed against each other at the thought of it, she knew she'd only get it if she told him her feelings, if she got rejected properly.

He was in front of her now. She wasn't sure when he got there and when he started talking. "I'll visit less often. It would be dangerous if people start to put two and two together. Dr. Solus has been more hostile lately. Explains a lot."

"Yeah, I heard." She nodded, eyes on the floor.

"You'll be fine?"

She shrugged. "Boredom can't kill."

Sighing, he reached out to push out the hood and ruffle her hair. She didn't stop him. "Hmm, where's that angry face you always do?" His hand still buried in her hair, he ran his thumb against her forehead. "You really okay, Mil? Stomach ache?"

"You'll regret it." She glared. Her heart quivered. But she was angry too and terrified. "In five years' time I'm going to be so out of your league, you won't know what to do with yourself."

His eyes widened. The light of his visor reflected the glassy surface of his eyes. His hand froze, resting on her head.

Her frown deepened. Holding his wrist, she kept his hand from leaving her hair when he tried to pull away. It shook under the strength of her grip.

Or was it her hand that was shaking?

"Why were you born so early?" She sounded louder than she wanted to be, whinier and she hated it. She felt the heat prickle behind her eyes. "You'll be an old man by that time!"

Whatever initial shock or confusion or maybe even fury that ran through Garrus then, dissipated into a laugh she couldn't describe or any emotion she could have named. But her chest felt warm, and her legs were bloodless and weak when his hand moved, messing up her hair. "Isn't it your fault for being born too late, kid?"

She frowned. "Did you just insult my mother?"

He shook his head, face plates lifting near his mandible. But his eyes didn't look so happy. "Shepard, I—don't return your feelings."

"Not even a little?"

He shook his head, no.

"Oh."

Garrus didn't look like he knew what to do with himself at first. Shepard got tired of looking up at him. Drawing her hands to her lap, she stared down at them and counted the seconds it would take for him to sigh and walk out of the room.

Instead, he got down on one knee, met the level of her gaze. His hands covered hers. She stared down at them, cursing at how incompatible they looked at such a distance. How could she even think of anything developing between them for even a moment? Now, she felt stupid and young and—

"One day, you'll meet a good man—not as good as me, I mean, amazing right." He chuckled at her glare. "Sure, you might meet a bunch of bastards on the way. You'll also introduce them to a good punch and that cheeky mouth of yours. But when you do meet him—you know, the one—" His grip tightened. Her heart calmed when their eyes locked. "What will you need this old turian for, huh?"

Her hands in his returned his hold. She closed her eyes but still the tears fell anyway and the storm remained.


	7. Chapter 7

_I enjoyed my vacation a little more than I intended. So this chapter is arriving at an usual time. Hope you all had wonderful holiday and a great new year! If you read my other stories, those will be updated soon as well. This is the second to the last chapter, with this story closing I feel a little sad to say goodbye to Millie. Won't keep you guys waiting very long for last chapter (at most a week). Enjoy!  
_

**When it Rains in Omega VII**

There were worse ways to end a first love. Shepard knew this, having read novels on it in her spare time. She turned to the window of the clinic, book in hand. The sky in Omega never changed—it was impossible, considering that it was a floating asteroid. But walking up to the window, looking up at the same sky whether it was the night or day cycle still made her think—maybe impossible things could happen, maybe it could rain in Omega—and she didn't want to be the fool who missed witnessing a miracle.

She put the book down and grabbed her shoes. The lack of exercise was starting to get to her and her—sickness—or whatever it was that was wrong with her getting worse, stronger even.

Maybe it was time to tell someone. Sparing a glance at the office door, she debated going to the doc.

Instead, she opened and slid out the window.

In the Gozu District, the tallest building was an empty apartment complex. She raced towards it without hesitation, her hood sliding off her head as she leapt over a staircase. Mordin might yell at her for leaving, right when he thought she was being so obedient, but now—out here—

She stood with her arms on her sides, over the ledge of the roof. The wind was strong and it tousled her hair and pulled at her hoodie. From her vantage point, she spotted the taller buildings of Tuhi, saw the lights coming from establishments like Afterlife and Bluefire. Her senses were assaulted by the sight of multitude of rooms from distant apartments, the clotheslines with barely dried laundry, the stench of smoke and metal, the dark pulse beneath the asphalt and steel. This side of Omega, the view of the stars that sank into the bed of the mundane, the unbound, the terrible—all this was hers.

Nothing could take that away from her. Not even the migraine or her broken heart.

She hated being a teenager. No one seemed to want to take her seriously.

Omega hadn't changed. Not since she was born here, with only a cross pendant she never touched hanging on her neck and the Christian name Emilia—the sole reminder that her parents existed at all. Of her drell friend who had gone missing and left no traces for her to follow and an unfounded attraction to a tourist turian she never asked for—all these she could lose but not this view.

Not even to the strangers who followed her to the roof.

She turned slowly to face four people—the one who took point was dark-skinned, a smile full of white teeth, an almost kind expression but the wrinkles on his forehead and the gravity of his presence gave him away: former marine or law enforcement, dishonest, likely dangerous. Tourists always gave themselves away in the most obvious ways.

They also liked blocking exits and making trouble in already troublesome places.

"We're not here to hurt you." He pointed his pistol up, hands open in surrender. His companion didn't have their guns out but they were armed.

"What else are you gonna accomplish when you burn someone's home down?"She tilted her chin up, her short hair dancing in the wind didn't deter from how sharp and refreshed she felt. She smirked when he couldn't hide how pale he became. "I'm sixteen. Not the vorcha shit you stepped on while you were climbing up here."

She studied their uniforms, armor of black and white, with an emblem of an orange hexagon. Well, that wasn't an emblem she liked to see or even saw often. The man cleared his throat. About to open his mouth but the companion beside him aimed her pistol. She was startlingly beautiful, but the snarl on her face didn't do her justice. Opposed to the dark-skinned man, she was more sleek lines and lean muscle — had a posh life maybe? Self-trained? Likely anal retentive, overconfident — naggy. Shepard would bet a bowl of ice cream that the girl didn't have one scar despite living a currently dangerous life.

"Miranda—" He began.

"We don't have time for this, Taylor." This Miranda turned back to her, eyes sharp. "You're the information courier around here who works for Feron. We want answers."

"To what?"

"The Shadow Broker's location."

Shepard sighed. "Listen, sister," Miranda glared even harder at the term. Not that Shepard could understand why. "Maybe you don't know the concept of what it means to be a messenger—but I'd like to point out that even the Broker's operatives don't know where he buys his coffee. What would I know?"

They tensed visibly, and in Taylor's case, with a twinge of nervousness. All of them were highly strung except for the one called Miranda. She tossed her dark hair back and aimed her gun steadily. "Don't try that bluff, kid. You're Shepard. You're not just any information courier—you work for Feron."

Well, she hadn't realized she'd garnered a reputation. Feron was high up there in the Broker's good books—but Shepard couldn't say for sure if he knew where the Broker was—no one was supposed to.

Except, as Miranda had accused, Shepard did, sort of — she wasn't supposed to know but people tended to look down on the runners, most of them couldn't read or didn't have an education. But Shepard was self-trained and sometimes she read too. Some inductive reasoning pinpointed a few possible places the Shadow Broker could be. No promise in terms of accuracy but it was a damn good lead—better than some vague guesses.

But like hell she would answer them. Mainly on principle because it would be bad for business and Feron was a fair businessman. Shepard wouldn't ever compromise that.

All about her, the wind still blew. She stepped back, sure that if all else failed she wouldn't get caught. If it came down to getting captured, being forced to confess, and likely dying in vain then there was plan B.

Fucking hell though, if she knew she would actually die today she would have ate Cheez Menace one last time.

Taylor, the one taking point, saw through her. His hands suddenly grew blue with biotics. "Come on, girl. Don't let this escalate any more than it should. Just tell us what you know and we'll walk away."

"I don't think I'm crass enough to tattle." She took a step back. They took a step forward. "And I know that if I let you take me anywhere it would be in a body bag. But fuck that too. I want to die on my own terms."

"Shepard! Don't do anything rash!"

She smiled. "At least I can say it's been a good day."

When she was learning parkour, she had been one of the smaller kids. And because she was afraid that she'd never measure up to the older ones, she trained twice as hard and twice as long. Now, she'd outlived all of them and had used all she learned to make a career out of it. She done things that defied the limits of the human body—scaled up walls with her bare hands and by the strength of her feet, jumped across buildings of near-impossible distances, landed unscathed from great heights. Training prepared her for nearly everything.

What training never prepared her for was a fall that was 21 stories high.

Taylor and Miranda both tried to catch her with their biotics but she was falling—down, down— faster than they could have caught her. Omega was different, if not more hellish, than she would have liked as she descended. Still, even this view she could count as hers as well. At least hell was a familiar place.

She faced this reality too calmly, even for her. But she remembered what she thought when she met Garrus, even as he was dying and struggling and trying to survive. This was just another day in Omega. Someone died before they ever really want to.

But Garrus got up. And he didn't give a shit if he was going to bleed out before help ever came. He faced what could have been the last few minutes of his life. Rage, she read somewhere before and that is what he did, rage against the dying of the light.

Fuck this shit. She wasn't gonna die in silence.

She roared. Her body was closing in to kiss asphalt and steel. At least if someone heard they could take her corpse to the doctor and Feron would at least give her some kind of burial. So she roared, hands stretched, reaching—

She felt it in her chest, a fire, a fury. Then it encased her arms, then her hands— shooting out of her with a force that had her defying gravity. Springing her up, she noted the cables that stretched between buildings. With the natural forces pulling her back down it was painful to stretch out her hand again but she did with another roar. Power drew out of her hand again but it missed the cable by a mile and she cussed.

Instead, it went for the window instead— expecting to be pulled toward it, she yowled as she was propelled back instead, a force so strong that all the wind was punched out of her; crashing into the neighboring apartment window, rolling when instincts took over to right herself. Back first, she slammed against a wall—hitting the back of her head. She saw black, then white, and hazy images before she finally came to. She heard the noise from a television, the crunch of glass when she tried to put some weight on her hands.

Her heart was slamming against her chest, she felt like she was going to puke and then some too. But Christ she was alive. Fucking hell, she was supposed to die but she was fucking alive.

She stood up, legs still feeling like jelly and she went down again. The world spun and she turned to the side and wretched violently. But it was the best puke in her entire life because fuck, she was still alive.

And biotic. Shit. How did that happen? She looked down at her hands, laughing. Oh, Garrus was in for story if she saw him any time soon. Feron too if the asshole wasn't still MIA.

Something stirred beside her and she turned to find a little boy, mouth open wide and the holo of his television unit glowing with violent cartoons. Suddenly, she remembered why she had fallen in the first place—and cursed Cerberus— and forced herself up, limbs and back cracking. She needed to move, who knew if Cerberus would attempt to find her body and find nothing there.

"Hey kid," She limped forward before crashing. Crap, she was exhausted. Must have been the biotics coupled with the relief that she managed to escape hell somehow.

The kid quivered. Holding on to his toy robot even tighter, he gulped before replying. "Y-yeah?"

She cleared her throat. "Maybe you can give your big sister a glass of water and a cookie from your stash, yeah? I'm starved."

* * *

She returned to the doc's clinic 7 days later.

As Cerberus's name suggested, they were like dogs when they were in pursuit. They never did cross paths again but their people were everywhere. She was just barely one step ahead at all times. If she didn't know Omega so well, she wouldn't have gotten enough rest to finally lose them. Only now, she smelled like the armpits of a sweaty batarian. Also, with lack of anything substantial to eat than a bite here and there, she knew she could eat a krogan if someone made them palatable.

She sent a short message to Mordin on the first day — after that kid gave her that exquisite chocolate chip cookie — and then immediately killed her omni-tool after using up her omni-gels. Any gear was shed for fear of getting tracked— a special kind of paranoia instilled in every Omega dweller. She also borrowed a few of the kid's mom clothes, his name being something like Gregory which she changed to Gear (and he liked it from the smile on his face—for good reason, because how archaic was Gregory, right). Shedding her own clothes in plain sight of Gear (really, his day was just as exciting as hers), she pulled up a pair of loose shorts and a mandarin collared jacket before she raced out of the building and crawled through the ducts of the next one.

She had lost the dogs by day four when she used one of those secret paths Aria didn't want anyone to know about. Then she hid and crawled for three more days till she was a mere click away from the Gozu Clinic. She had a feeling the place was compromised at first but nothing stirred from as far as three clicks away or even any sign of surveillance. Shepard could only assume that it was pure coincidence that they found her the first time and they wouldn't have if she hadn't given in to her wanderlust.

She rolled her eyes, another thing for the doc to glare at her for. Perfect. But, since she used that biotic blast she didn't feel anymore nausea or migraines. Maybe it was a little late for her to be exhibiting any signs but—hell, she was biotic. Who cared about how or when, right?

So seven days later she stole back into the clinic with the stealth and speed of a street cat. She made her way back into the clinic: tired, smelly, hungry but breathing.

She expected to find Mordin, angry, and she could tell because his usually messy office was clean and clutter free. "Finally, Shepard. Would yell but too relieved." He exhaled deeply. "Glad you're safe. Smell vile, however. Will grab disinfectants and potent deodorizers."

She smirked. "Hey to you too, doc."

She looked about the room and her eyes widened. Who she wasn't expecting was Feron, pacing like a caged lion from one end of the room to the other until he spotted her. He sighed, pausing. "Finally, kid."

Relief flooded into her system and she smiled sweetly, approaching him. "You fucker."

He laughed when he reached out to give her a hug. "You reckless little shit. Where the hell have you been? And why do you smell like you bathed in krogan piss?"

"Where have I been? How about you? You've been gone for almost half a year in case you didn't notice."

He stepped back, scratching the back of his head. "A lot of things happened but—all clear now though. Everything is fixed for you. We can go now, in fact."

"Fixed for me?" She took a step back, arms crossing over her chest. "Go now? Where?"

On the desk beside them, Feron threw the datapads onto the table. "These are your essentials. We kept your name as is but we fabricated some stuff here and there." He grabbed her by the arms, smile in place as he shook her a bit. "Let's live in Ilium. I met a—girl. We can go there. As a family."

"What?" She bared her teeth at him, her grip tightened around his forearm. "Is that all you've been doing in Ilium? Getting fucking hitched when I got chased around by Cerberus?"

Feron shook his head. "You'll be safer there. We'll be safer there—you, me, Liara. You need to meet her, Millie. She's fantastic!"

"I don't care what she is."

"Don't say that." Feron shook her again. "You don't have to be a courier anymore—you can find a real job, get a real education. You can live a normal life, away from crime and danger. You can live with a family."

She reeled from confusion to relief and just more confusion. Then anger, vicious familiar anger.

Stomach growling, heart racing, and feet smelling she replied the only way she could:

"Hell no."


	8. Chapter 8

_So, this is it. The final chapter. I warn you: there are some weird, warm, fuzzy, and happy things below (yes, talking about the chapter)._

_I'd like to thank you all for reading and reviewing. I've received some very helpful and amusing feedback. One of which was even an idea for a completely different AU, LOL. And even to those who don't review: thank for you reading. All of you have helped in keeping this story alive. The biggest thanks goes out to my beta, Elantil, she has suffered through more than enough typos and writer gripes to date._

_I'm very happy and proud that Millie was an acceptable heroine and loved by all of you. And because she was so loved: come back around mid till end of February for the first chapter of the sequel, Taught by Thirst. It will be a much more "grown-up" story, though the rating will remain T. But it involves that lovely time skip everyone was clamoring for._

_Until then, see you and enjoy the chapter._

**When it Rains in Omega VIII**

"We've been looking for you."

Behind Shepard, Garrus cleared his throat. Atop one of the highest buildings in the Gozu District, she'd been camping out for several days—first she stole money (she actually stole, something she hadn't done since, well, since Feron picked her off the streets when she was thirteen—there were Morinth's keys but those shouldn't count). She got herself fed with the money, then broke into someone's apartment and took her first shower. She bought some more rations and some clothes before deciding that this rooftop had some pretty fair weather and with a datapad she took from the apartment, she could at least read other than mope.

Now, though, she was sitting on the ledge behind a balcony of metal twisted into vines, her feet dangling off the roof as she was finishing an ice cream cone.

When she didn't speak, Garrus cleared his throat again. "We've been worried."

She leaned her head forward against the cool metal after her treat was done, watching the dancing lights beneath her feet.

"We, my team and I, met Feron during our visit. We didn't know you got in trouble even before that—but when we walked around there was talk about Cerberus looking for an information courier. They've withdrawn for now—we made sure of it."

She lifted her head and looked up at the sky.

"Not going to say anything, kid?"

She turned to look at him. Leaning back on her hands, she felt like a little kid again—no real place to return to, living in Omega one roof at a time, stealing into apartments.

"Did Feron tell you?" She spoke. He didn't flinch. "He plans to take me with him to Ilium?"

Garrus nodded. "Yeah."

"Because he found some—asari to make a home with or whatever, and he thinks because I've helped him reach this far, I deserve a ticket out of here?"

Though his eyes narrowed, his face stayed mostly neutral. "You deserve a better life, Shepard. Much better than the one you've been living."

"Hah. Only a cultured brat from a Council planet like Palaven would say that." She grinned at him, even as he glared back at her. "Who are you to determine whether my life was better or worse than yours, hm?"

"No roof over your head? Stealing? Running away from thugs? Selling information to criminals?" He folded his arms across his chest. "I don't see how your life was better than a homeless vorcha's, Shepard."

"But I have a system. I have friends. I have a life here. Fuck, maybe it doesn't have all the comforts a kid would want—a mom, a dad, a house. But that's the card I was dealt, and I've lived with it."

"But you don't have to live with it anymore, don't you see? You can leave. Get an education you deserve. A stable life."

"A stable life? Someone like me?" She pushed herself off the ledge, rolling back and landing on her feet until she was standing in front of him, pointing a finger at his chest. "You don't get it do you, tourist? When you're born in a place like Omega—it never leaves you. The kids in Ilium? Their posh cars and their nice clothes—they'll know I'm different, they'll smell it. And then what? I'll just be a stranger in a strange place. It will be like growing up in Omega all over again, learning everything all over again."

"And? What's wrong with that? What's wrong with leaving everything you knew behind for something more worthwhile?"

Shepard swallowed. She looked down and gritted her teeth. Garrus put his hands on her shoulders and she turned to look into his eyes. The same color as hers, albeit hidden behind the light and frame of a visor, his eyes were older and wiser.

Why did Garrus leave his job? Why was he in Omega? She always wondered but never bothered to ask. Was now the right time? Would he actually tell her?

"You'll be fine, Shepard." He told her. "You're smart. A little mean, at best, but anyone who can't take that isn't worth your time. You'll be just fine. You're not going to be alone."

Her vision blurred, tears prickled as they tried to escape her eyes. She faced down, chin hitting her clavicle every time she tried to suppress a sob. For all she knew, for all she could see—it was raining a storm in Omega. "I don't wanna leave."

"I know."

"I wanna be able to run. And j-jump on the old lady's couch. Learn how to shoot from Melanis and make f-fun of Erash with Butler. Read books with the doctor. P-play video games with Vortash and Weaver."

"I know."

"I wanna stay here—I'm scared. And I—" She sobbed. "I wanna be with you."

Garrus reached out for her, cupping her face with both his hands. She was expecting it to be foreign but it wasn't. She was expecting his hands to feel cold against her face but instead they were warm. With his thumbs, he wiped the tears trailing down her cheeks before he pulled her to his chest.

"You'll be fine." He whispered, his subtones were soft and against her ears they rumbled. Like—she wanted to laugh at the thought—like thunder over the distant mountain ranges. "You'll never be alone."

* * *

What did it mean to leave everything behind?

All Shepard had to show for it was her own body bag—old comics and novels, small little trinkets Archangel gave her. They gathered at the docks as Feron was talking to the captain of a vessel, some asari Liara knew that was going to take them light-years away. Not everyone she knew was there: Erash barely left HQ for any reason, she wasn't particularly close to Sidonis and they avoided each other. Morinth wasn't there either, but it wasn't like she would have been welcomed. Aria would have been someone Shepard would like to say bye to one last time but the queen couldn't leave her throne to say bye to a mere brat.

Melanis held her for a really long time. Wailing, practically, and Butler was too and they sandwiched her between them until Nalah, his wife, couldn't take it anymore and pushed both of them aside to get her turn. Her pregnant belly got in the way of the hug but she made it up with the warmth of her arms and tears on her face when she said, with the finality Shepard let sink in: "I'm going to miss you so much, Shepard."

She hugged her back, just as fiercely. "I'll send messages every day."

Nalah looked at her sternly. "You better."

"Shepard," Mordin cleared his throat. "Imperative you receive education on biotic safety and control after getting implant."

She nodded. "I know, doc."

"No jumping off buildings."

She smiled and gave him a short hug because a longer one would have made him squirm. She put up her right hand. "No jumping off buildings."

Shepard hugged Garrus last. He didn't seem to be expecting it but she did. He cleared his throat when they separated and then he nodded at Grundan. The larger man, reached into a bag and handed him—

"That's—"

"Paperback. Human too." He handed it to her and scratched the back of his head. "We had to go through a few—shady places—to find one. Bashed a few batarian heads against a wall to get a discount but that's just the norm in Omega, isn't it?"

She chuckled, looking down at the book in her hands—it was thick and abridged but she wasn't going to be picky. "The Count of Monte Cristo. Hm, this is a little dark even for you, Garrus."

"Is it?" He tilted his head. "Frankly, Shepard—I have no idea what it's about but Grundan swore by it."

She chuckled again. "I love it." She smiled at him as she tucked it into her bag. "Don't worry."

"Millie!" She heard Feron yell, already halfway into the vessel. "We're leaving in five!"

She looked back at everyone she was leaving behind. She almost sobbed but she laughed instead when Garrus reached out one last time and ruffled her short, spiky hair.

"Shepard!" A voice no one recognized called her. She looked passed Nalah's shoulder and everyone looked behind them. It sounded urgent. Most of Archangel had a hand over their sidearms when they noted a batarian running over to them, a box in his hands.

"Isn't that one of Aria's guys?" Butler voiced out as the batarian drew close enough. He stopped to catch his breath.

"Hey." Shepard blinked at him. "Please tell me you have a stash of potato chips. Feron told me they were thrice the price in Ilium and it would make up for the times you beat me to the sale."

The batarian glared down at her before he pushed the box into her hands. Shepard noted they had large hole on top of them and something shifted and purred inside. Shepard looked at it with wide eyes and then at the courier who grinned.

"Aria sends her regards." He walked off and gave them a wave. He didn't wait for Shepard to even say thank you.

"Shepard? What's that?" Sensat asked behind her as Shepard put the box down and rushed to open the box.

"Aria being the best mother an orphan can ask for—Crap, it's adorable!" She squatted down as it looked up at her. She took the datapad that was inside next to a bag of food and a bottle of water. She read the contents, a grin cracking her face as she put it down.

_I heard it rained in Omega._

_Don't kill it._

—_Aria_

It looked like a hybrid—it had the face of a fox but the body of a cat but with three tails that were long and slender and moved as fluidly as water. Its fur was soft to the touch and that was grey with a blue-ish sheen. It looked at her with gold eyes and yipped and Shepard just wanted to squish it to death.

"It's beautiful." Nalah cooed. "What is it?"

"It's called a _Kendra_, native to Thessia." Sensat supplied helpfully. "Lives a fairly long life for a pet and it's active and fast. Some commandos train theirs to hunt criminals with them so it's smart too." The asari brightened. "Some of them develop biotics."

Shepard brought it out of the box and it purred as she pet it on the head. Her grin was a sly one. "Really? What should I name it? Please tell me this actually has a gender." She lifted it up and it yipped again. "Because I see nothing under here."

Butler snickered behind his hand and Sensat sent him a glare before turning back to her. "Well, it's hard to tell when they're this young. See how the ears are a little pointed? This one is a boy."

"A boy, huh?" Shepard held it near her chest it and nestled there. "Can I name it Garrus?"

Garrus cleared his throat. "I'd like us to part with my dignity intact, Shepard. If you don't mind."

She chuckled. "Fine." She faced the pet until they were nose to nose. "I'll think of something when I'm on the ship."

Melanis came forward, petting her on the head. "You take care, kid."

"I will." She faced all of them. "Thank you." She locked eyes with Garrus. "For everything."

Even when they were halfway to Ilium, Shepard kept her eyes looking out the window. Her new pet was taking a nap on her lap as watched the stars and darkness and a multitude of pretty things she never thought she'd be able to see—there was another view out there to own, she thought, as she closed her eyes to take a nap, and she was going to be ready to see it when she woke.


End file.
